


Ended Up There (Hero Takes a Fall)

by rosierey



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Finally!!, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Luther be Knowin', M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Sofa Sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-01-12 22:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21233261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosierey/pseuds/rosierey
Summary: How do you sleep after the things they've seen? The answer is: not alone.-Moments after each mission where Ethan and Benji only have each other...





	1. These Bruises and Bandages

The hotel room is dark, a hum comes from the road two stories below accompanied by the soft clack of fingers on a keyboard. Benji can't sleep. He had left the Pier and booked a room at the nearest hotel to wait out the eight hours until his flight, tomorrow morning. He had meant to sleep through most of them, but the minute his head hit the pillow his head was a buzz. It made him feel a little queasy, laying in the silence and listening to it all churn around in his mind: all the possibilities of how this mission could've gone south- did go south. 

After thirty minutes- that felt a lot longer- Benji had sat up with a frustrated sigh, and dragged his laptop from under his pillow. Coding, researching, browsing; it all helps calm his mind, gives him something to focus on. He contemplates putting on headphones, but he's still hyper aware and nervy. It'd probably just make it worse.

As it turns out it is the right choice, because two hours into researching the target of his next mission he hears a noise. It's soft enough he misses it at first, but then a particularly loud scrap makes him sit up, fingers pausing. Someone is picking the lock on his door. This, he thinks as he retrieves his gun from beneath the other pillow, this is why he shouldn't have picked the first dump he found.

He climbs out of bed, gun raised at an angle as he watches the shadow shift in the gap in the door. There's a click that is far more ominous in the quiet. The door handle tips cautiously and as it opens, Benji side steps into its shadow, watching the figure come inside. 

"Don't. Move," he breaths, relieved at how steady his voice sounds. The figure freezes, empty hands raising. As they stand there the door falls shut with a click.

"Benji."

"Oh, Christ, Ethan?!" Benji yelps, dropping the gun to his side and reaching for the light switch. When they come on, Ethan is facing him, squinting in the sudden brightness. "What the hell!"

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"Why are you breaking into my bloody hotel room? Hang on, how did you know I was even here?" 

"Right, about that," Ethan says sheepishly, shifting the duffel on his shoulder. He's swaying on his feet a little and Benji wishes he'd put on his glasses so he could read Ethan's expression. "I forgot to book somewhere to stay until my flight. It's.... in five hours, I just need somewhere to wait."

Benji stares at him, dumbfounded, "you... forgot." Has he actually fallen asleep earlier?

"It happens," Ethan replies moodily, then sighs. "There was... I didn't realise the time-"

"Are you drunk?"

Ethan looks up, mouth ajar, then drops his gaze, jaw snapping shut. That's a yes, then. Benji can hardly blame him. If he weren't in a cheap ass room he'd be unconscious on tiny bottle of scotch from the minibar by now. Had Ethan even had time to process what happened to Julia yet? What's happened to himself? He went straight from that to Russian jail, to this last mission. The man hasn't slowed down a minute. 

The question of how Ethan knew he'd find Benji here remains unanswered, but Benji puts it down as one of those 'Ethan things'. He turns to the door and latches it. "So you're flights at eight?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Benji."

"It's fine," Benji says, going to the bed and returning his gun to its hiding place, feeling Ethan's eyes on him the whole time. "I wasn't sleeping anyway."

"Why not?"

Benji looks up at Ethan who has his hands in his pockets, head tilted a little. He looks tired. Exhausted, really, the sleep heavy beneath his eyes and around his mouth. Benji wants to wrap him in the duvet and kis- no, no he doesn't. He stands up straight, suddenly very aware that he is just in boxers and a 'han shot first' t-shirt while Ethan is fully dressed. "What?"

"Why weren't you sleeping?"

The loose thread in the hem of his t-shirt becomes very interesting, he twists it between his fingers. "It's- it's like I said. I can't sleep." It feels like admitting defeat. When he could pass it off as a joke, it was okay but here... He's still that weak technician Brandt thought he was. He can't even handle one important op. The room is quiet again and it makes Benji's skin crawl. He swallows loudly. 

"Benji," Ethan murmurs. "I can't sleep sometimes too." Something in Benji's chest unfurls and he sinks, sitting on the edge of the bed and curling his cold toes into the rough carpet. Ethan is looking at him so sincerely, Benji realises just how much he's missed him. That realisation comes with a hint of guilt and Benji has to remind himself they're just friends, this foolish schoolboy crush can't continue now they're in the field. These nightmares can't either, where he sees Ethan die over and over because Benji isn't good enough to save him. He frowns down at his lap.

"What if it's all the time?" Benji asks quietly. The mattress dips beside him and Benji can see Ethan's cargo-clad thigh next to his bare one. 

"It'll get better. You're still new... it'll get easier." From anyone else it would have felt like empty platitudes, but Benji knows Ethan. He's been doing this long, and has know Benji long enough, not to try and lie or sugarcoat it. He sighs and nods. He can feel a reassuring warmth from Ethan's leg almost touching his. It takes all his self control not to lean into him, melt into his side and stay there for a while. Instead he meets Ethan's gaze and forces a smile.

"Okay."

Ethan looks just as unconvinced, but nods. Benji notices his hand is pressed into his other thigh, massaging the healing muscle subtly. "You alright?"

"I'll be fine, Benji. Always am. Just a little battered."

"A little- Bloody hell, it's a wonder you've lived this long. 'A little battered', please," Benji tuts and Ethan grins.

"Nothing I haven't dealt with before," he replies, practically goading Benji.

He wants to ask 'how many times have u crash a car vertically and stopped a nuclear bomb in the same 3 minutes' but instead (not really wanting to know the answer) he scoffs, "oh, very reassuring."

"Actually there is something I could use some help with," Ethan says reluctantly. "I need to wrap my ribs before the flight and I can't really do it myself."

"Ah, so you're just here to use me," Benji chuckles, then quickly adds, "for my medical skills." Thankfully Ethan doesn't seem to notice the pause and smiles. Perhaps he has the booze to thank for that, which makes Benji frown.

"You caught me," he replies, patting Benji's knee and standing unsteadily to go to his duffel.

The room has a tiny, grimy en suite with barely enough room for one person let alone two, but they squeeze in anyway. Ethan brings a roll of binding and hands it to Benji before discarding his jacket.

Okay, so now Benji is very much awake. He can feel the colour rising in his cheeks as Ethan pulls the shirt over his head, a little clumsily. It hadn't fully occurred to him that Ethan would be undressing in front of him, but now there is twice as much skin on show between them. Benji's eyes bulge as he catches sight of the hair travelling from Ethan's navel and his belt. Oh, this was a terrible idea.

All distracting thoughts quickly disappear when Benji's eyes move up to Ethan's chest. There are more hues of purple, blue and black than pink, undoubtedly from the seatbelt and wheel. It makes Benji feel queasy seeing Ethan's chest mottling from stomach to clavicle like a savage tattoo, courtesy of Cobalt. If they had just hacked that satellite sooner, he would have never had to go through that...

He can't stop himself from muttering, "Jesus, Ethan."

"It's-" 

"Nothing you haven't dealt with before, I heard," Benji snaps back. Ethan doesn't say anything, just stares back plainly. He sighs. "Life your arms, please."

Ethan obeys easily, raising his arms and resting his hands on the top of his head to give them something to balance on. Clearing his throat, Benji steps into his space and fumbles the roll open. He can feel Ethan's eyes on him again as he starts wrapping the material around the top of Ethan's ribs. Beneath his palm he can feel how solid Ethan is; he may be small, but he's broad and compact where Benji is soft. He's warm too, heat pouring through the material, and Benji wishes there wasn't these barriers, these bruises and bandages, so he could just run his hands-

"So where are you going next?" He asks, interrupting his own train of thought.

"Paris-" Ethan's chest rises and falls beneath his fingers. "-There's a new group, The Syndicate. They've been making some bold moves."

"Sounds like trouble," Benji murmurs. Ethan hums noncommittally as Benji expects, but it still manages to make his skin break out in goosebumps. He knows Ethan won't say anything more. That's fine with Benji, he has read Ethan's file more times than he cares to admit. The uncensored one he had broken into that detailed Ethan Hunt's life down to the heart stopping (literally) minute. He knows Ethan has dealt with the unimaginable, he can handle anything.

He glances up and Ethan stares back, eyes bright and penetrating. Clearly, tipsy Ethan isn't that different from sober Ethan. Though maybe he's less...reserved, Benji thinks, he's never felt Ethan's observation so blatant. Then again, he's never been this close to Ethan before either. They've known each other a while now, but there was always a distance- like Benji was always looking up at Ethan at a great height. An unattainable friend, let alone crush. Even though right now he's stooped in front of him, Benji feels on equal footing for the first time. A little farther from Colleagues? A little closer to friends?

The binding comes to the base of Ethan's ribs and Benji taps the end of it down before smoothing his hand over to find any imperfections. He pauses at a slightly folded piece and carefully straightens it out. 

"How does it feel?"

"Good," Ethan murmurs, eyes half closed. Benji realises his hand is still against Ethan's chest and quickly pulls it away, clearing his throat. There's a tingling in the shallow cuts on the tips of his fingers that makes him want to flex them.

"Not too tight?"

"No," Ethan answers more clearly, taking a few heaving breath to test it with one hand over the middle of his rib cage. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," Benji says while Ethan picks up his shirt and redresses, trying to ignore his disappointment. Benji flounders for a moment before going out into the room again where he can breath again, heading to the bed and clearing his things from on top of the duvet. "Look you- you've got a few hours so take the bed. Get some rest."

Ethan emerges from the en suite, jacket in one hand, the other still on his ribs. His brow is furrowed, "no, I've already put you out enough-"

"I insist," Benji says firmly, then adds more softly. "Please." That seems to work; Ethan's shoulders drop some tension and a half-smile appears.

"Alright, yes. Thank you."

As Ethan sits on the bed and bends to take off his shoes, Benji gathers his things and turns off the light, leaving the bedside lamp on. Once they're both settled- Ethan in bed and Benji in the armchair by the window with his laptop- a new, comfortable quiet falls over them. Benji doesn't pay much attention to his research now, listening to Ethan's slowing breath and watching the glimmering pier below. 

The sheets rustle and Benji looks over, taking in the shadowed form beneath the covers. To his surprise, Ethan has curled himself up in a fetal position, knees draw up. For some reason Benji had been expecting Ethan to sprawl and take up as much space as possible. This seems almost too child-like for Ethan, arms wrapped protectively around his ribs like he's afraid. Benji realises he's dropped off in the same spot Benji had been lying just a little while ago and it makes something twist in his gut. He slouches lower in the chair and glares accusingly at the cursor. 

After a few minutes of a futile staring contest, he opens Netflix and finds something inane to watch on mute. He leaves the subtitles off, reading the lips to test himself. He stretches out, crossing his ankles on the little table in front of him and leaning on the arm of the chair, drifting off to Ethan's soft breathing.

Just as he starts dreaming of some place in England from his childhood (where everyone's been replaced with wacky waving inflatable tube men) Benji is jerked awake by a noise. For a moment he thinks the laptop has fallen off his legs, but then the noise comes again, louder, from the bed. Sitting up he watches Ethan twist in the sheets, a pained gasp escaping as he flings his head to the side against the pillow.

"Ethan?" He says cautiously, slowly getting up from the chair. A nightmare, Benji realises, his heart aching in sympathy. Sweat glistens in the half light on Ethan's furrowed brow and his hands are clenched in the covers, veins popping. He knows approaching someone having a night-terror isn't the right protocol, but it's Ethan. He can't stop himself from leaning over the mattress and shaking Ethan's shoulder. The knee jerk reaction doesn't catch Benji off-guard, he flinches out of the way just in time to avoid Ethan swinging up. The tips of his fingers just miss Benji's throat. 

"Jesus! Ethan, Ethan, hey, it's me! You were having a nightmare!" He calls urgently, still holding onto Ethan's shoulder hard. Ethan looks around, disorientate, wide eyes darking from one corner of the room to the next. Finally, he looks at Benji and his panting breathes slow. 

"Benji." He sits back a little and Benji settles on his knees beside him. With a deep shuddering breath, Ethan wipes his hair from his face. "Sorry," he croaks, turning his hand to wipe the back of his hand over his forehead. 

"It's alright," Benji squeezes Ethan's shoulder then drops his hands into his lap. "Sounded pretty bad."

Ethan's eyes are hollow, damp with sweat and maybe tears, as he processes Benji's words. "Yeah," he admits, then chuckles darkly. "See, told you."

"I guess you did. What was it about- if, if you want to talk about it," he finishes lamely. It takes a while for Ethan to reply, his gaze on the view outside rather than on Benji as he finds the words or decides on whether to tell the truth.

"It's, uh, always the same thing. Everyone around me is dead and I'm alone, just... all alone," he explains, very carefully like he's desperately trying to control his voice. Benji clenches his fists, knowing that truly is Ethan's worst nightmare because it keeps happening to everyone he's loved. His family, his friends, his lovers. His entire being is fueled by the need to protect those around him, he'll risk the world to save one person, then save both. To dream of a place where he has failed to do that, lost everyone he's cared about? Must be terrifying. 

Heart beating a little faster than usual, Benji decides to be bold. "C'mon lay down." 

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep," Ethan protests weakly, but lays back away. The sweat cooling on his skin and adrenaline is already making him shiver. Benji shifts up and lifts the duvet Ethan had thrown aside, curling up on the mattress before pulling it over the both of them. For the first time Benji can see he's caught Ethan by surprise, eyes widening as he watches Benji adjust the pillow under his head. It'd be satisfying if Ethan didn't seem so vulnerable. 

"If you have that dream again, well, I'll be right here," he murmurs into the space between them, as if it's a secret someone else might hear. "You can look over and see you're not alone." 

Lit by the pre-dawn sky, they look at each other until Ethan blinks like he's come out of a trance and nods. He buries his head into the pillow, holding onto it tightly even as his eyelids droop. Benji watches in fascination as the man slowly drifts back into sleep. When Ethan sighs and his tense grip on the pillow loosens, Benji smiles feeling victorious. The clammy colour of Ethan's skin looks better now, warmer. Everything feels warm here, Benji can't stop the weight of sleep sinking his eyelids too. Before he slips away completely, he slides his hand across the sheet and slips one finger over Ethan's wrist. 

The next time he wakes, it's with a rush of deja-vu. The room is brighter, dawn breaking outside, and he peers over the covers at the empty space beside him. He sits up on his elbow and finds his glasses on the bedside table. When the rest of the room comes into focus, he finds Ethan in the armchair, tying his shoelaces. The sight is almost surreal- Ethan Hunt getting dressed after a night spent in his bed. If he had told his younger self about this, he'd have died blushing.

"Hey, you goin'?" He croaks, making Ethan look up from.

"Flights in an hour," Ethan answers softly and stands. Benji thinks, with a small amount of pride, Ethan looks rested. "Thanks, Benji. For everything."

"Yeah, 'course. Any time."

There's a terrible fond look on Ethan's face as he picks up his bag that Benji can't fathom. "I'll see you soon."

The door opens and closes, and Ethan is gone. 

"Bye," Benji murmurs into the empty room. Flopping back onto the warm pillow, he presses the palms of his hand under his glasses into his eyes and sighs. The clock by the bed glows blue with the time: 7:00. Barely half a nights sleep under his belt, but it's the most Benji has gotten in days. And the most undisturbed too, no bad dreams. He tries to tell himself it is just by chance that it coincided with Ethan's presence in the bed next to him.

He doesn't manage to persuade himself before sleep takes him again.


	2. Interlude One (Ethan)

"You... Slept together?"

Ethan glances up from the scope at Luther who is sat next to him on a much more comfortable looking box- laptop on his knees, one earphone in. It has been at least half an hour since Ethan's legs have gone numb, laid on his stomach, peering over the building edge through his scope. There is a blanket tucked under him but even a year after Dubai, his leg whisper with a lingering ache. He flexes his gloved hands.

"Yes," he answers then hesitates- the myriad misconceptions ticker-tapping through his head. "No."

Luther is the master of Looks and this one is both amused and withering. Ethan squirms (thought it's more of a weird wiggle in this position) under the gaze, pretending he's adjusting his sights.

"It's- it's complicated," Ethan mutters, looking through the scope again. Far ahead and a few stores below he watches Mr. Barnham chat to the potential buyers of the Georgian enriched Uranium seated in front of him, backs to Ethan. One head is familiar, agent Harris, embedded in the terrorist group who the second silver-haired buyer, Keswick, is a lieutenant of. A week earlier, Harris dropped an encrypted message to the Imf that this meet was happening. 

"'Complicated', I've heard that before," Luther adjusts the hand-held dish, signal warping in the wind. A little to the left, the voices become clearer in the earpieces they both wear. They're still negotiating politely. "Never ends well."

Ethan winces as his knee digs into the barely padded gravel. This should've been over already. All that needs to happen is for Barnham to hand over the package and both parties part ways. Then Ethan's team, and the second team, will pick each party up and bring them in. Simple. 

"No that's not- we're... We just slept."

"Slept. Together."

Ethan hums non-committedly, watching Barnham lift the large silver case onto the table finally. He would usually be more patient, but Benji is team 2's leader for the first time and it's making him... anxious. (Luther described him as a mother on her kids first day in kindergarten). Not that he doesn't believe in Benji, he does, but he wants this to be simple for both their sake's. Even letting himself think that feels like a jinx. 

"No, c'mon, Ethan. You can't just, dance around it like this. One of these days you gotta tell him somethin' at least."

Ethan glares at him, waving a hand as if to bat the idea (and the truth) away. "I don't think I do actually!"

"Whatever, man. You know how he looks at you. I'm just tired of listening to both of y-"

There's a bang.

Ethan jerks his head back to the window, then ducks to look through the scope. Agent Harris and Mr Barnham lay dead on the floor, chairs toppled over with them. Keswick stands between them, gun raised at Barnham's still writhing body. He fires another shot before tucking the piece inside his blazer.

"Agent down," Ethan hisses. Luther stares speaking frantically into his mic. Ethan tunes him out, taking a steady breath, exhaling. He fires. There's a beat, then the window's glass spiderwebs. 

Keswick whips around, eyes darting until they catch Ethan. He grabs the case and runs for the door, out of view.

"Bulletproof glass, that wasn't on the schematics," Luther says breathlessly. 

"Shit," Ethan hisses, scrambling up. He drops the rifle on the blanket and runs for the exit yelling behind him, "get the van!"

He takes the stairwell three steps at a time until he runs into the fire door at the bottom, then out into the heaving street. Civilians pass by, unbeknownst and calm. Ethan steadies his breath, straightening his jacket and drifting naturally into the stream. He watches the opposite side of the road carefully and, after a minute, spots the swish of a silver ponytail. 

He jogs between the jammed traffic, waving politely at the tired looking cab driver who glares. Moving smoothly through the crowd, he mutters quietly to Luther. 

"Does the second team know?" Does Benji know?

"The traffic isn't moving, Ethan, you're on your own," comes the reply.

Unperturbed, Ethan keeps tracking the man for a few feet behind. The foot traffic is too dense to do anything, it's rush hour and there are too many variables. Too many chances. They walk for three blocks when the crowds starts to thin, no longer in the business district. Keswick looks across the street, then turns in the opposite direction.

"He's turned off 12th," Ethan says quietly. As the catches up and round the corner, he see Keswick go into a building, scaffolding surrounding its towering exterior.

"He's going into a building, under construction." His mind is racing with questions- how did Keswick know about Harris? Did he? Or was he just betraying his organisation and Barnham at the same time? Making Harris just collateral damage. The term makes Ethan grimace.

"Copy that, we'll be there as soon as possible. Team 2 is closer. I've called Brandt, he's sending more back up."

Ethan walks quickly to the door, pausing for a second before slipping inside. It isn't busy, most of the floors obviously under work and empty, but there are suited people in the lobby and an occupied reception desk. 

"I'm going dark. Get back up here now."

"Team 2 is sending people on foot-" 

He sees Keswick look over his shoulder as he stops at an elevator. Ethan quickly takes out his earpieces and tucks it under his shirt collar. He takes out his phone, pretending to be busy as he walks by the receptionists confidently. In his peripheral he sees Keswick press the elevator button. Ethan stops next to him. Two ladies come and stop behind them, chatting animatedly. 

The numbers overhead count down to the ground floor and Ethan watches them calmly. Keswick's fingers flex on the briefcase handle. When the elevators arrives with a ding, their eyes meet briefly as they both step inside. 

Keswick presses 33, the woman in the blue suit gits 45 and Ethan presses 32.

Quiet elevator music plays and the women talk in a more polite, hushed tone at the back of the compartment. Ethan stands beside the man in front of the doors, gauging him as subtly as possible. Keswick is at least a few inches taller than Ethan, thinner and gaunt in the face. It reminds him uncomfortably of Lane's haunting features. Luther said team 2 were on foot that meant maybe seven minutes until they get here, they weren't far out. Benji. Benji might be coming. Ethan finds himself clenching his hands and hides them in his pockets. 

The elevator chimes for his floor. He hesitates, cursing himself for getting distracted and studiously avoids the man's gaze. He keeps his steps measure down the corridor until he hears the door close, then bolts for the stairs. 

"Luther?" Ethan pants as he bursts into the stairwell, fumbling the earpiece back into his ear. "He's on floor 33, I'm not sure why, there's nothing up here." There isn't a reply. 

AT the doorway he draws his gun and opens it gently, peering down the corridor. Then the door slams back into him, briefly crushing his forearm and shocking the grip on his gun. It hits the floor as he shoves back and stumbles into the room. Keswick staggers but gains his footing again easily. For a second they stare at each other, gun laying between them. 

Neither go for it. Keswick launches forward, kicking at Ethan's shin which he evades quickly but just blocks the left hook with his already throbbing forearm. He grunts as the pain bolts down his arm but throws a punch at Keswick's chest, hitting solidly. The man staggers again, then grabs the blue tarpaulin drapped over the windowless hole, throwing it at Ethan. 

He shoves it aside and sees him running down the corridor. Through the window there is more scaffolding and Ethan realises it's an escape route. Keswick starts climbing. 

"Luther he's headed for the building over, the helicopter pad! Luther do you copy?"

"On it," comes the crackling reply. "Ethan, Benji's in the building. Winters too." 

"They're gonna be too damn late."

Ethan charges after Keswick, following him through another empty window frame and onto the scaffolding. Their footsteps thud and shake the wooden slates. At the end of the frame Keswick pauses, glancing between the boards and Ethan. Seeing his train of thought, Ethan jumps forward as Keswick kicks the slate under his foot. He lands, stumbles, shouldering Keswick back but not unbalancing him.

"Ethan!"

Benji voice echoes up from a lower scaffold. Momentarily distracted, Ethan takes a hit to the ribs with the corner of the briefcase. As he doubles over he catches sight of Benji stood with his gun raised for a second.

"I can't get a shot!"

"Take the shot," Ethan calls back hoarsely. Blocking another hit and throwing one in return. Keswick feints left grabbing Ethan's forearm as it passes his shoulder. His knee collides with Ethan's gut and Ethan goes staggering back. His left foot lands where Keswick dislodge the slate and Ethan falls. There's a yell. Ethan catches himself on his forearm, another jolt of pain shooting up them, whiting out his vision for a second. 

Then he sees the man jump from the scaffolding to the opposite room, scrambling up and over. He can hear other footsteps, Benji and Winters below, but they're too late. He struggles up, staggering into a run before launching himself across the divide. Gravel sprays up into his face as he lands poorly, but he manages to duck and roll onto his knee. He reaches for his gun and his fingers close around air. It's in the corridor. Ethan looks up and sees Keswick, clinging to the doorway of the helicopter already off the ground and rising. As it goes, Keswick watches him with a cruel look on his face. 

Ethan slumps, dropping his other knee and breathing hard. 

"Ethan? What's your status?" Luther asks in his ear just as Benji calls him name from behind. Benji. Why hadn't he just take the shot? Ethan closes his eyes.

"They're gone. He got away," Ethan manages, clutching his burning arm to his chest. All the pain simmers beneath the adrenaline, making him shake all over. "They're gone."

-

The medical bench under Ethan's thighs squeak uncomfortably as he adjusts his seat. He sighs, balling and unballing the hand of his newly plastered forearm. A broken radius, the doctor had said after the x-ray. Ethan had guessed as much while sat in the back of the van on the way to headquarters. No one had spoken, but Benji's silence spoke the loudest. On the roof, burning with pain, Ethan had walked passed Benji without a word even as he called after him. It was childish perhaps, but pain made him irritable and tired. Benji hadn't followed his order and they had lost Keswick because of it. 

Ethan rubs a hand over his forehead and sighs. It wasn't Benji's fault, it was a great mountain of different fuck ups. It just so happened Benji's was the last one to happen and therefore the target of Ethan's unhappiness. Of course, Benji is hating and blaming himself right now somewhere and that increases Ethan's guilt tenfold. 

"Agent Hunt?" The nurse asks as she draws the curtain back.

"Yes."

"Here are your painkillers," she hands over a small paper bag and smiles kindly. "Your free to go."

"Thank you," Ethan says, returning a more forced smile. He picks up his jacket and beelines for the door- medical tended to remind him of all his other injuries and of Julia. Neither of which he wanted to think about right now. 

With each steps exhaustion settles in and he leans against the elevator as it rises above ground. Medical sat in the basement level, the lobby between it and the upper floors of the Imf headquarters. He passed the lobby to the third floor. 

When the doors open it's chaos- technicians running back and forth between desks, on the phone and occupying computers. It reminds Ethan of Benji again- the old days when he would come and have lunch with Benji at his desk when he wasn't training recruits. Benji had been so shy and would ramble nervously, but he never failed to make Ethan laugh. Whenever he did, Benji would pause whatever he was saying to stare like he couldn't believe he had made Ethan Hunt laugh. Ethan didn't have many friends, but he had wanted Benji to be his the instant they had met. 

"Ethan," Brandt comes striding up the corridor looking haggard. "What the hell?"

"I know, Brandt, we got poor intel," Ethan says, shaking his head. Brandt beckons him away from the bullpen to his office. Luther and Benji are waiting inside- Luther leaning against the window, Benji standing near a bookshelf looking shifty. He stops chewing his thumb as Ethan comes in, staring at him with wide eyes. When Ethan meets them, they fall to the floor instantly and Ethan hates himself a little more. 

"Poor intel, gentlemen. Poor intel and bad planning," Brandt says once he's taken his seat at his desk. No one else sits. Benji shifts, hands slipping into his pockets. A nervous tell.

"Brandt we couldn't have seen this coming, it-"

"And you weren't expected to, Benji. This fault lies somewhere else, not with the team leaders or their teams."

"Wh... why are you so calm?" Benji asks carefully- they'd learnt from experience Brandt could get a little explosive when things didn't go to plan. The same question was on Ethan's mind too- Brandt sat there looking more grave than angry.

"Keswick has been apprehended."

"How?" Luther asks. "We don't have a team in the field-"

Brandt interjects. "It wasn't the Imf."

Benji's brows creases and he looks around. "Then who?" 

"The CIA," Ethan answers, made certain by Brandt's grimace. There has always been tension between the two services, mounting of late. This didn't bode well.

"Ethan's right. They got him somewhere on the Canadian boarder. I believe this will be the first nail their director, Hunley, will use to nail the lid shut."

"On the Imf? They can't just do that," Benji says hotly. "We're a government funded operation just like them, he doesn't have the auth-"

"Which is why he's going to take this to the relevant authorities. I don't know when, but my sources at telling me in the next year or so." 

Benji stares at Brandt in disbelief, lost for words. Ethan can't blame him.

"So what happens now?" Ethan asks calmly.

"Now?" Brandt shrugs. "We go about, business as usual. You have three weeks mandatory medical leave, anyway."

"You want me to go on holiday after this has just happened?" Ethan says incredulously.

"We need you at your best and honestly? I don't think you are right now," Brandt shots back, holding his gaze. Ethan digs his nails into his biceps, hiding his frustration. There is a grain of truth in Brandt's words, he's felt off for weeks. He hasn't gotten any real sleep. He glances at Benji who is studiously avoiding eye-contact. Luther gives him a one arms shrug. They both agree.

"Fine. Two weeks."

Brandt barely manages to hide his smile. "Two weeks then. Get outta here, all of you, I've got a mess to clear up."

There's a murmur of ascent and Benji goes to the door first. Ethan watches him go then sees Luther glaring at him, wearing another one of his Looks. It's telling Ethan, in no uncertain terms, to fix whatever he's done. Knowing Luther is right, Ethan nods and hurries out the door after Benji.

He doesn't find him until he reaches the elevators where Benji is just stepping into one alone. Ethan slips through the closing doors. The doors close but the elevator doesn't move and Ethan realises Benji hasn't pressed a button.

"...Lobby?" Ethan asks, pointing a finger at the panel. He sees Benji begin to blush.

"Oh, yes. Thanks."

He hits ground floor and the compartment jolts in movement. A tense silence settles over them and Ethan finds himself clenching and unclenching his hand again. It suddenly feels very hard to speak but he forces himself to anyway.

"Benji, I need you to know-"

"It's fine, Ethan-"

"No just let me-"

"If we hadn't-"

"Benji," Ethan grabs his arm and pulls the emergency stop button. "Just listen."

Benji stares between Ethan and the red button he just pulled. "Okay."

"I didn't mean to, to do what I did," Ethan fumbles. "I mean I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I just... why didn't you take the shot?" Benji closes his eyes like he was dreading that question being asked.

"You were there."

Ethan glances around. "Ye-s."

"No, you were in the way. I couldn't get a clean shot, I wasn't going to risk-" Benji opens his eyes and looks at Ethan, something fearful in them. "-I wasn't going to risk shooting you. I didn't care if Keswick got away, I don't care what you say-"

"Benji," Ethan says softly. "Thank you. I would've done the same." Benji deflates, exhaling noisily. "I wasn't angry with you. I was angry Keswick got away and I'm sorry. Okay?"

"Okay." Reluctantly letting go of Benji's arm, Ethan starts the elevator again. They only make it another few seconds before Benji pulls the button too.

"Are you okay, though?" Benji asks as he straightens.

"I'm fine," Ethan answers instantly. Neither of them are convinced by it. "I haven't slept much. This thing with the syndicate is still happening and then there's..."

"There's? What?" Benji coaxes. The way he speaks is so caring and soft, it melts Ethan a little. No one speaks to him like that anymore- everything is orders or questions or demands.

"It's was our anniversary a few days ago, Julia and mine," he says quietly, staring at the door. He remembers it so clearly, maybe a little rosily. Her hair shorter and darker, in scrubs, her Saint Luke necklace caught on her collar. The way she smiled at Ethan like she couldn't figure him out but wanted to. He'd felt at home in her presence right away. Some people were like that for him, special people. Benji. He's looking at Ethan with wide eyes and a sympathetic expression.

"I didn't remember."

"Neither did I," Ethan admits. "I forgot until I walked past a newspaper stand." They'd run into each other at one, literally. Julia had bought one as a cheap umbrella on her way to work and Ethan had been looking at a dog across the road. The newspaper had fallen out of her hand when they collided, scattering papers in the wind. Ethan felt bad and leant her his umbrella. She promised him a coffee as thanks. And the rest is history.

"That's why I... I never thought I'd get to a point where I could forget. Where I could go a day without thinking about her," he says, words spilling from him now. "I know it's a good thing really, but at the same time-"

"It feels like forgetting her too." Ethan looks up at Benji again, struck by how well Benji understands him. He wants to admit that those times when he doesn't feel the weight of guilt, he thinks of Benji. Wonders about him, wishes he could touch him without being terrified- of hurting him, of that lingering sense of betrayal to Julia. The worst of it is, he wants to one day but he's not ready yet, and he wants to tell Benji that but it's selfish. He can't make Benji wait for him. It's cruel.

Benji touches his wrist, pulling him from his thoughts. "She'd want you to be happy. She'd understand."

"I know but it's-"

"It's not that easy," Benji finishes, nodding. "You once said to me 'it'll get better'. I think you need to listen to yourself for once. And stop putting everything on your shoulders, Ethan, there are people who will carry the weight with you."

He means himself, Ethan realises, and his heart beat skips. They stand in silence until Benji hesitantly leans in and hugs Ethan. It feel odd at first, Ethan tensing before leaning into it. He lets almost his entire weight fall on Benji as he hugs back, knees suddenly weaker. When was the last time someone hugged him? He realises he's breathing like he has run a 5k and tightens his hold on Benji's back.

"Thank you," he murmurs into Benji's shoulder.

It's odd letting go and starting the elevator again, standing with the gaping hole between them. Ethan wants to reach out and close it again, push himself into Benji's arms and tell him 'just wait, just give me a little time and then I can give you everything'. But he can't so he doesn't.

The lobby hums quietly with day to day business, perfectly ordinary. No one looks their way as they pass.

It's cloudy outside, Ethan peers at the sky wondering if it means anything. The buildings loom shadows overhead like something advancing on them. Ethan shakes it off and looks at Benji instead. The shadows don't seem to long beside him.

"Get some rest okay?" Benji says, fiddling with his car keys. A little silver Millennium Falcon swings from them.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'll trying. You too, hm?"

"Sure. Bye, Ethan." Benji's movement is hesitant as he turns down the pavement like there is more to say. Some much feels left unspoken, words piled up in the back of Ethan's throat. He watches him walk away until the crowd obscure his view. With the weight of a mission unfinished and an ache in his arm, Ethan walks away and pretends the sadness doesn't trail after him like a stray dog. He'll keep moving, it's what he does- so the emotions don't catch up and crush him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this (and this whole fic too) ended up way longer than i intended sdufhsuh if it's not clear this is post ghost p, and pre rogue nation!


	3. Tonight It Feels Tragic

The van is quiet. London's dark streets flicker by, lamp lights illuminating the cab every few yards. Benji is slumped against the passenger door, concentrating on the window vibrating under his temple. That and the ache all over his body are the only things stopping him from slipping into sleep. No, he wouldn't sleep, he'd dream of something he doesn't want to think about. Being conscious is better even if it hurts more. He hugs his jacket closer and stifles a yawn. Luther is watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Ethan drives steadily over London bridge, guiding them to the rendezvous confidently. Benji can't tell where they're going even though he knows London well. All his attention is focused on tamping down the sick feeling churning in his gut. Was this the adrenaline wearing off? They've won, but all he wants to do is throw-up.

Eventually they pull over in a quiet street and Ethan turns off the engine. Nothing happens for five minutes, then headlights flicker on and off in a pattern two cars down, over the road. 

"Let's go," Ethan says, opening the door and getting out. Luther follows him while Benji opens the passenger door and steps out into the damp chilly night. As his legs hit the pavement they buckle and he has to holds onto the door. His whole body feels like liquid, but he recovers composure before the others appear around the bonnet. 

Ethan leads them up the street until they pass the blacked out SUV. Doors open and close as they pass, and Benji resists the urge to look back at the agents headed for their van. That is it. Solomon Lane is done. Some of the pressure in Benji's chest eases, but he still feels like he can't breath. Like he's still strapped into that vest. All he can do is hug his chest and pretend that's where the pressure is from.

They pause in an alley off a busy high street, hidden in the shadows. Ethan watches people pass for a moment before turning back to them, his gaze lingering on Benji as he speaks.

"We have to split up. To be sure. Meet at the safe house at 0400?"

"Okay," Luther says and looks at Benji, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder before walking away from them into the crowd. He disappears smoothly. Benji forgets sometimes what a great agent Luther is in the field. Ethan's voice draws his attention. 

"Benji? Safe house-"

"0400, got it. I'll see you there."

Before Ethan can reply Benji leaves too, joining the hubbub and losing himself in the foot traffic. For a while he wanders, just trying to breath and not dissolve into the looming panic attack. London is like New York at night- still full of life and lights- but smaller, older. More familiar. He crosses the bridge and watches the black water shimmer at the feet of parliament. Everything seems hazy, like he's walking through one of his dreams. 

Eventually he finds an entrance to the underground and sits in the near deserted platform, waiting for the next train. His eyes feel as though he's been staring into LED lights for an hour. They ache an sting with tears, over stimulated... weak. Pathetic. Totally pathetic. 

A train pulls in with a hiss and a smattering of people disembark while he gets on, headed into the nightlife or maybe home. For the first time in years, Benji longs for that blissful ignorance. They have no clue they were in danger from nuclear missile three years ago, no clue there was almost an explosion at the Tower of London tonight. And both times it was Ethan who saved them. Every time, by the narrowest of margins.

In Dubai- and the missions since then- Benji hasn't had to... he hasn't see it. He saw it from a distance, but this time it was up close and personal. Benji had literally had the stakes strapped to his bloody chest.

The train hums and Benji stares holes into the grubby floor beneath his trainers. There are two other people in the car, one asleep across three seats and the other staring at their phone, some bass-heavy music pouring through headphones. This had been his home, he realises. London, England. But now he feels like a stranger. So where does he belong? He closes his eyes and remembers the green fields of his childhood, safely preserved in his memory. Sometimes he thinks he still belong there. Somewhere away from it all, away from the bombs and the glare... 

They stop again and the doors hiss open, squeaking on neglected hinges. Benji glances up and does a double take as Ethan walks into the car. The agent looks up the car, then down and sees Benji. His smile is tired but warm as he approaches, sliding into the seat beside Benji as the train moves off. 

"Fancy seeing you here," he murmurs. Benji chuckles half-heartedly and shakes his head. Fancy seeing him here as if Ethan hadn't followed him to keep an eye on him. Fancy seeing him here, alive and not in charred pieces. Fancy seeing him here as if Ethan isn't the entire reason he is-

It's too much. Benji's laughter dissolves into a ragged breath, he tries to contain the strangled sob that follows it. Squeezing his eyes shut and gripping his jeans. Ethan looks at him with wide sad eyes, then pulls a hand free from his jacket, throwing it over Benji's shoulder. He pulls Benji against him, pressing his face into his chest as Benji begins to cry. There's a hand stroking his neck and the press of Ethan's face in Benji's hair. It's painfully gentle, Benji wishes he felt emasculated or ashamed but he just feels safe. 

Eventually he wipes his nose and sits up, taking off his fogged up glasses and wiping them too. Ethan's hand stays on his shoulder in a loose grip until the train pulls into their stop. He stands, and Benji follows him led by an invisible tether. He'd follow Ethan anywhere.

Somehow it is even colder above ground now, Benji shivers. Perhaps it's just the absence of adrenaline finally making him feel it. Their arms bump as they walk in silence and Benji thinks of Vienna. He really has followed Ethan anywhere.

A street away from the safe house, on a small deserted bridge, Ethan stops. Benji stutters to a half a few feet in front of him, looking back quizzically. Ethan's hands are hidden deep in his jacket and his cheeks are a raw shade of pink. He looks gorgeously rugged almost fictional.

"I'm sorry I didn't," Ethan glances at cobblestones. "I didn't see it coming."

"You couldn't have known," Benji replies weakly. He doesn't want to talk about this. That tightness in his chest is seizing. 

"No but I should've."

"How? By gaining clairvoyant powers overnight?" He snaps irritably, throwing his arms skywards. "Lane was a step ahead of us from day one, Ethan, what matters is you got there in time. I'm alive and so are a hundred other people thanks to you." 

Ethan looks at him sadly and says, "I wanted to keep you safe." Benji isn't sure whether he wants to hit him or hug him for how bitter he sounds. This saviour complex will be the end of Ethan Hunt one day.

"You did."

He turns and starts walking again, hoping to convey an end to this conversation, but Ethan catches his arm and stops him. He still won't meet Benji's eyes when he asks, "did they... do anything to you? Did he hurt you?"

The sick feeling in his stomach rises to his throat tasting like bile. The tears are still on his cheek making his face burn cold. That's the worst part. He feels beaten to a pulp but they didn't hurt him, only a little when he struggled. Those cold reptilian eyes on him the whole time as he tried to fight.

"He didn't do anything to me," Benji murmurs. A flicker of hurt crosses Ethan's face as his hand falls away, and Benji walks on.

"I don't believe you."

"Maybe you need to start trusting me, then."

"That's not what I meant!" He catches up with Benji, but Benji stares ahead so Ethan can't see how tearful his eyes are again. "Please, Benji, stop."

"God, Ethan, what?!" Benji cries, impact lost under the cracking of his voice. Tears catch on his eyelashes and he blinks them away furiously. No one else cried, Ethan didn't cry, Ilsa didn't cry. It's embarrassing, he doesn't want Ethan looking at him. Pathetic.

"Talk to me, please," Ethan's voice is raw too, like he's been yelling into a gale. Suddenly Benji can't look away from his eyes, held by the desperation in them.

"I can't," he confesses quietly. "If you make me, I'm just going to, I'm gonna lose it." But he already has, tears rolling free, and once more he's crying. Ethan's warm arms drag Benji against his chest, fingers curling tightly into his jacket. Benji hides his face in Ethan's shoulder, sinking into the warmth and security of the arms holding him tightly in place.

"I'm sorry," he hears Ethan whispering, over and over. He tightens his grip in Ethan's jacket, trying to collect himself. It might have been romantic in another time and situation; holding each other on a cobbled street under the inky starless sky, but tonight it feels tragic. 

"God, I'm the sorry one, look at me," Benji sniffs wetly and pulls away, but Ethan doesn't let go. "I'm here blubbing and you're the one just got chased through London and shot at."

"Just another day in the field," Ethan says with a rueful smile. He keeps Benji tucked into his shoulder as he steers them up the street. Benji wonders what they must look like to a passerby, two figures pressed closely in the anonymity of night. A couple in their own little world.

"Do you ever get used to it?"

"Honestly I don't... remember it any other way." It's a sad answer, but better than a lie. Benji watches Ethan's profile, half in shadow, how even battered he looks handsome and stoic. He wonders if Ethan feels the same way he does- a man without a country or place to call home. Are they both adrift?

The safe house looks unoccupied, a boarded up old terrace with three floors. Inside the only light on is in the kitchen where Luther sits, on his phone. When Benji and Ethan come in he glances up and gives a short wave, unsurprised by the sight of them together.

"I'm going to shower," Ethan says, squeezing Benji's shoulder.

"Where's the med kit?" Benji blurts as Ethan reaches the staircase, where he stops and looks at Benji hard.

"I thought you said you weren't hurt?"

"I'm not, but you are," Benji shoots back with a glare. He's known Ethan long enough to tell when he's hiding an injury; his gait a little more careful than usual like he's trying not to jostle himself. There's a momentary stand off until Ethan sighs, the corner of his lips curling a little.

"It's in one of the bags," he says tiredly, nodding to the canvas bags on the sofa. It surprises Benji he didn't try and protest but it's a relief, he has no energy to argue. Maybe Ethan knew that or maybe he feels the same way.

While Ethan goes up the stairs, Benji finds the kit and spare clothes. When he passes the bathroom he hears water running so finds a spare room to change in first. He peels off his sweaty t-shirt and takes in his bruised up body, the layers of colours a journey from the car crash and his kidnapping. He runs his fingers over the red marks on his wrists from the zip ties, and the angry lies on his breast bone where the vest had been strapped too tight. Shaking himself, he dresses in a woolen jumper and fresh slacks hoping to take the edge off the chill.

The bathroom is down the hall and Benji stops at the door, listening for the shower again. Of course, Ethan was the navy shower type so it is already off. He tucks the kit under his arm and knocks gently.

"Ethan? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, it's open."

He finds Ethan stood over the sink in just a pair of black boxers, hair still dripping at the ends onto his bare shoulders. His skin is tinged pink from the hot water, and Benji finds it hard not to stare. On his chest, Ethan has a similar set of bruises to Benji, but across his forearms and back are angry red scratches.

When he realises he's been silently staring, Benji huffs."What did you do, bail out of a third story window?" Ethan sits stiffly on the edge of the bathtub.

"It was the first."

Benji glares at the mischievous smile sent his way. "Oh the first, that's great. So much better."

"To be fair he initiated the descent."

Benji snorts as he sets the med kit on the sink and digs through it, looking at Ethan's reflection in the mirror. "They always do." Ethan just shrugs. "Well, I hope you'll use that exact wording in your mission report. 'Yes sir, we did do thousands of pounds worth of damage but they initiated it so it doesn't count, sir'." Behind him Ethan snorts softly and it conjures some warmth in Benji's chest.

He finds the antiseptic wipes, fumbling them open as he turns back to Ethan. After a second of awkward hovering, he steps between his open legs. Ethan raises one arm for Benji to grasp by the wrist and hold toward his stomach while he cleans the cuts, then the other. They're all shallow and small, but they must sting horribly, though Ethan only winces at the first dab then stays quiet.

The marks on Ethan's face are not nearly as myriad, mostly against one cheek. Ethan tilts his head hack obediently and Benji's throat suddenly feels very dry. He leans in and carefully cleans the cut on Ethan's forehead then tilts his chin with one hand to clean the next on his jaw. The quiet suddenly reminds Benji of the hotel room in Seattle and it's dingy en suite. They've been almost exactly here before but it feels like a life time ago.

"Seems like I'm always patching you up," he murmurs. Ethan seems to understand what Benji means and smiles.

After applying two butterfly plasters to the cuts, Benji opens his mouth to speak but notices the state of Ethan's left thigh. The skin on the outside is cut up and raw, travelling halfway to his knee.

"Christ," Benji gasps, bending to look more closely. Ethan peers at it too, though not nearly as horrified almost bemusedly.

"It was coming off the bike in Casablanca."

"Does anything hurt you?" Benji tuts, it doesn't look in bad nick thought, healing nicely already.

"You'd be surprised," Ethan answers, something dark in his tone. It makes Benji pause and look up at Ethan who's gaze is off to one side, unfocused. Benji busies himself with finding more wipes, not wanting to let himself read anything into it.

"C'mon stand up, lets do your back."

They switches places at the sink, Ethan leans over and braces his hands on the basin while Benji takes the space behind him to the right. Once again he finds himself hesitating, staring at Ethan's bare back. Under the scratches he has a lovely curved spine with defined muscles shifting beneath tanned skin. He's almost afraid to touch, afraid to have that knowledge of what they will feel like under his hands.

Then Benji notices Ethan watching him in the mirror and quickly opens another wipe, flustered. This time Ethan winces a little more, these injures fresher and sensitive. Benji mumbles apologises, but keeps at it until he's sure every one has been cleaned. None seem to warrant any stitching or bandages thankfully.

"There," Benji says with finality, dropping the pinked wad of wipes into the bin by the toilet. Ethan exhales deeply and turns, leaning on the basin still.

Thanks, Benji."

Benji bobs his head, "you're welcome." For some reason Ethan doesn't move, so Benji awkwardly leans around him to pick up the kit, zipping it and hugging it to his chest like it might protect him (from what he isn't sure). There's an air of danger now, though not like the kind they faced today. It's something simmering at the edges, like overexposure bleeding into a picture making everything fuzzy and hard to see. Even in just his underwear Ethan still commands the room, completely relaxed under Benji's shy gaze. Eventually Ethan does shift, his brow furrowing, and crosses his arms.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"No," Benji lets slip. "But I have to be." Ethan unfolds his arms and touches Benji's wrist. Benji wonders if he somehow knows about the marks beneath the long sleeves.

"I'm here. If you need anything."

Anything. Benji meets his gaze, taking in the steady warmth of Ethan's eyes that he memorised a long time ago. Anything. This close, less than a foot of space between them, he can feel Ethan's feverish skin. the man runs hotter than a furnace but Benji has goosebumps. Ethan's touch has always been grounding, the hand on his arm is the only thing keeping him from floating away and disappearing into hopelessness. Anything.

His heart rate spike as Ethan's hand tightens on his wrist and his eyes flicker to Benji's lips. He suddenly feels like he's leaning forward, drawn by unknown forces to Ethan's warmth like a moth into light. (These forces aren't unknown, a voice says to him, you know exactly what it is you're feeling). What would Ethan do? They're friends, but... Would he? (You want to know what he might do, the voice speaks again, if there's a chance you haven't imagine this thing between you).

There's a rap on the door.

It takes all Benji's restraint not to stumble back and fall into the bath. Ethan lets go of his wrist, re-crossing his arms, and Benji thanks whomever above that his legs don't give out. Luther peaks through the doorway like he's afraid of seeing something he doesn't want to. Benji edges back a little to create some space between him and Ethan, hoping the kit in his arms is explanation enough for why he's in there with a practically naked Ethan. It doesn't help that Ethan looks utterly unfased.

"Hunley's got an extraction team en route, we're out of here at 0900 sharp."

"The CIA is coming to get us," Benji clarifies in belief.

"I don't think we have anything to worry about, Benji," Ethan reassures as he exchanges a look with Luther who nods and leaves without another word.

"Nothing to worry about? Ethan until a few days ago Hunley- the CIA- were trying to hunt you down dead or alive," Benji hisses urgently. Ethan holds out a pacifying hand, shaking his head a little.

"I promise it's gonna be fine. I trust you, you trust me, right?" His outstretch hand touches Benji's upper arm. It instantly makes Benji's shoulders droop and he forces himself to take a deep breath. The hand is gone as quickly as it appeared as Ethan leaves the bathroom in search of clothes.

Benji stares at his reflection. He think he should look different somehow, after everything that's happened. But he just looks like the same old Benji Dunn; aging and pale. He sighs at himself, shakes his head, and leaves the bathroom too.

He knows he isn't going to sleep tonight so Benji waits for everyone to go to bed before settling on the sofa and turning on the television. The news comes on, reporting shooting in London's city centre- a suspected sting gone wrong. He flips the channel until he finds an innocuous talk show to focus on instead. The sofa smells old, but it's soft and warm so Benji lays back, easing his aching back into the cushions, and stares at the screen.

The stairs creaks and he sits up a little.

"Can't sleep?" Ethan asks on the third step. He looks ruffled, hair messy from drying against a pillow and shirt askew.

"Did the telly wake you?"

"No." Ethan crosses the room and sits against the opposite arm of the sofa. It's still small enough that Benji's crossed knee brushes Ethan's thigh. Benji waits for Ethan to speak again but he doesn't so he turns back to the television. Every so often he glances at him curiously. Finally as the presenter introduces their next guest, Ethan speaks again.

"You remember Seattle?"

Benji's heart flutters, "remember...?"

"You-" It comes out croaked and Ethan pauses, jaw clenching. "When you were there, it was easier. To sleep."

Benji has to gather himself before replying- what do you say to your crush implying they want to sleep with you, quite literally?- but his voice is steady when he says, "it was for me too." Ethan seems to relax a little, not looking away from the screen as he nods.

"Okay."

If Benji didn't know better he would think Ethan seems nervous. They lapse into silence again. After a minute of deliberation, Benji twists and puts his legs up on the sofa, over Ethan's lap. He settles down, resting his head on the arm. It's his turn to stare at the screen while Ethan stares at him. Then, tentatively, Ethan's hands rest on his calves and he slouches back so Benji's legs rest on his stomach.

This is... something. This is good.

Benji hides his smile and closes his eyes, feeling Ethan's rough fingers shift against his legs. The one closest to his ankle circles the bone a little, thumb running over the light hair there. He hears Ethan chuckle at something the guest says and Benji can't help smiling too. Before long, Benji is drifting off. His last thought is maybe everything will be okay after all.

Daylight wakes him a few hours later. When he tries to move the crick in his neck twinges and he winces. There's something heavy on his waist and he finds his glasses on the floor where they must have fallen. The fuzzy shape becomes Ethan, slumped against Benji's stomach with one arm draped over his hips and legs tucked up under Benji's.

Benji smiles, brushing Ethan's hair behind his ear to see his softly sleeping face. He looks sweet. Benji realises he's absently trailing the curve of Ethan's ear, and takes his hand away. That's when he hears a chair scrap in the kitchen and whips he's head around, regretting it instantly at the jolt of pain down his neck. Luther sits at the kitchen island, sipping a coffee and reading the newspaper with deliberateness. Benji groans internally- how much did he see?

Carefully, so as not to disturb Ethan, Benji frees himself from the embrace. He pulls his jumper down where it had rucked up, trying to gain back a little dignity before turning to the kitchen. Luther pushes the full cafetiere across the tabletop in lieu of greeting and Benji takes it gratefully. He doesn't drink coffee often, his roots lay in tea after all and even after living in American for years he hasn't shaken the habit, but today it is a necessary evil.

After a couple of sips of the liquid courage he says, "It's... it's not what you think."

Luther turns a page, face blank. "I didn't say anything did I."

"Your face says enough, Luther," Benji shoots back, then winces, glancing at the sofa. There's no movement.

"Look I'm happy for you guys-"

"We're not-"

"I'm saying," Luther interjects right back, holding up a hand to shush Benji. "It'd make sense. But you're adults and I'm no matchmaker so I'm stayin' out of it. S'all I'm saying on it. Want toast?"

Benji makes a disbelieving noise, desperately searching for words of... of something, protest or explanation, anything. But the sofa creaks and they both look up and see Ethan stretching. Luther raises his mug in greeting to the man when he comes in, then gives Benji a knowing look. Benji's jaw drops, a furious blush lighting up his cheeks which he quickly hides behind a swig of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i got over excited and posted the next installment very fast, sue me!


	4. Interlude Two (Ethan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very short, very sweet

"You're kidding?"

Ethan shrugs and slurps a stray noodle into his mouth as he digs around for more beef. He glances up and stops chewing when he realises Benji is waiting for a reply. He's sat across from Ethan at the fold out bench, an array of surveillance gear and take-out between them. There is a fork of orange chicken halfway to Benji's lips (he has never got the hang of chopsticks, a fact Ethan finds endearing as hell).

Ethan spreads his occupied hands, "no?"

"So, wait, let me get this straight," Benji sits forward and pulls the napkin from his collar (another habit even more charming). "You've been living in hotels since everything with Cobalt?"

When Benji phrases it like that- so appalled and disbelieving- Ethan realises it... might be little odd. A lot odd; judging by the way Benji's eyebrows climb his forehead when Ethan nods. Benji looks around as if to find someone to commiserate with him, but they are alone in the analytics department. 

"Ethan that's, God, that's awful!"

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Ethan replies, pride a little hurt. "I still had the house, but I was never there and it was too big without... So I sold it. I meant to look for a new place but there hasn't been time." Or anywhere he has felt safe enough to stay any longer than a week. The old house, his and Julia's place, was ghostly when he got back from Dubai. It accentuated her absence and his loneliness. Really, Lane was the final straw- when the CIA accused him of going rogue they seized his assets and sold most of them off. It sounds ruthless when Ethan thinks about it, but they did him a favour.

"What about your stuff? C-clothes, belongings," Benji asks. 

"In my locker at the gym." What was left of his belongs he gathered a stuffed into two tall green lockers. The Imf gym is secure enough for Ethan not to worry about leaving the things he cares about there. He had even slept there on a couple of occasions, though he is definitely not going to tell Benji that now. It might shock him into an early grave.

"Jesus, Ethan," Benji leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. His glasses glint in the laptop light and make him look tired to Ethan, like he hasn't been sleeping well. Although it's no surprise after Lane, Benji admitted as much that he wasn't okay, but it doesn't make it any easier to watch. It reminds Ethan of that night of the sofa: watching Benji fall into exhausted sleep and curling up across his lap when he was sure he wouldn't wake him. It had been indulgent, but they both slept well. Ethan wonders if Benji thinks about it too when he's awake in the middle of the night. 

"It's not like I'm homeless, Benji." 

"It literally is!" Benji shoots back with a disbelieving laugh. Not feeling hungry anymore, Ethan sets down his food and crosses his arms. 

"I just haven't had the time," he reiterates, desperate for Benji to believe him and end this conversation. But he knows that look on the man's face, the subject is far from dropped. Benji sighs. 

"That's a rubbish excuse. You need somewhere to stay, to sleep. No one should live without a place to, y'know, lay their hat."

"...Lay their hat?"

Benji blushes a little and rises from his seat, "it's an expression, maybe." He grumbles as he begins to gather up the empty take-out boxes. Ethan ducks his head a little to catch Benji's eye.

"I'm fine, Benji, really."

"Ethan," Benji sighs, shoulders drooping. "That's just not true, I- ugh!" He rubs his forehead like the conversation is giving him a headache. There is a lapse into silence and Ethan watches him, trying to figure out what he's thinking. There was a time when he could read Benji like a book, but these days... 

Benji's back is to him when he speaks again, "you could have told me... I mean, we're- I thought it was clear we're friends."

"We are, Benji."

"Well, this is the kind of thing friends tell each other," Benji's shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh. Ethan realises Benji must feel hurt by this, like Ethan kept it from him deliberately. In a way he did; he didn't want to make a fuss about it, and it honestly didn't seem that important until now. But he never meant to hurt...

The monitor in front of Ethan beeps.

"They've surfaced," Ethan murmurs. 

"Alright," Benji replies just as quiet. The atmosphere stays subdued for the rest of the night. 

It was naive of Ethan to think the subject was dropped that night. 

A week later, Ethan sits at his desk enduring the monotony of filling out mission reports. In his new position as secretary, Hunley has cracked down on data management and procedure at the Imf. This meant most days immediately following a mission, Ethan is at headquarters typing up said mission. It's late again and Ethan's eyes feel square and achy. He rubs them hard and sighs. 

"You gonna start needing glasses if you keep this up." Ethan jumps and manages to knee the desk. Benji stands in front of him, a sly smile on his face. "Look at that, I managed to get the drop on the Ethan Hunt."

Ethan chuckles, rubbing his sore kneecap. "What're you doing here?"

"Here," Benji says and Ethan notices for the first time the two travel cups in Benji's hands. God, he really must be tired. He takes the one Benji offers, inhaling the lovely smell of fresh coffee. Benji pulls up the chair from the neighbouring desk and sits. "Had to help some kids down in technical. They seem to get them younger and younger."

"I think we're just getting older," Ethan says, taking a heavenly sip of the beverage- Benji may not drink coffee but he makes it perfectly. 

Benji laughs. "You're right." Ethan puts down his coffee and starts typing again, just correcting some mistakes on the form. "You misspelled courts martial," Benji points out and Ethan hums. He can hear Benji's fingers tapping on the cup as he reenters the correct spelling. "How much longer are you gonna be here?"

"Another hour, maybe."

"Alright, well... I'm heading home." The chair creaks as Benji stands and there's a pause. "Hey, Ethan?"

The backspace clacks angrily. "Yeah, Benji." A hand suddenly blocks his monitor and he watches Benji's hand place a gold key in front of his keyboard. The tips of Benji's ears are pink when he looks up.

"What's this?"

"A key. That's obvious, right. It's to my place. I know you're still staying at that hotel, I looked it up on their system. Sorry," Benji's brow furrows. "Actually I-I'm not. Anyway, just... use it? I know you're out of town more than not, but whenever you're back- I have a spare room and, and a very well-behaved cat-" 

"Ben-"

"Just... We both sleep better with- with someone else there," Benji's eyes are fixed on Ethan's desk and his cheeks are red. Ethan can feel himself blushing too; they don't talk about those incidents beyond when they happen. What happens on-mission, stays on-mission. Or so it seemed until now. "I know I do anyhow. I'd sleep better knowing you were there and, well, knowing you weren't sleeping in some hotel. At least I have a high tech security system, honestly-"

Ethan smiles, his chest feeling weirdly inflated. "Thank you, Benji."

Benji's jaw clicks and he stares wide-eyed. "Oh... You're welcome.... 'Night." He turns away, then back again. The blush has spread to the tips of his ears. "And my address is 12 Avo-"

"I've been to your house," Ethan interjects softly. 

"Right! Yes, of course, right," Benji fumbles with his travel mug lid. "Right..."

"Goodnight, Benji."

The blush seems to get even brighter. "Yes, goodnight, Ethan."

"I'll see you later?" Ethan asks by way of reassuring Benji he is going to use the key. Frankly, the idea of a real bed and a lock on the door sounds appealing. Sleeping in the room across from Benji's? A little more complicated. But it's not like he's moving in.

Benji stands straighter, a more genuine smile on his face. "Okay."

He leaves, and Ethan squeezes the key in his palm feeling the bite of its teeth against his skin.

The truth is, Ethan spends less time in America than he does abroad. It's on purpose, really. He prefers to occupy himself with missions than face the nerves and nightmares that settle in with downtime. It's been his way of life for years- broken only briefly by Julia. These days he finds himself slowing down, looking more closely at the places he stays. The anonymity of them; impersonal and cold. He has started to miss that sense of 'home'.

With Benji he sleeps better. He knows this, but there's something else too. He's loved Benji for a long time and held those feelings at bay for the sake of them both- from their safety to Ethan's heartbreak over Julia. His heart is split in two between them, but now Benji is the one who brings light into his day. He has become 'home' instead of the memory of Julia. For a long time, Ethan felt guilt for it: moving on. But, like a wound healing over, the sensation is muted now.

Ethan opens his palm and looks at the key, shiny and newly cut, his palm around it reddened. It anchors him in the present again, reminding him he has somewhere to go after this. Someone to go to. For the first time that doesn't make him feel guilty and it shocks him. In his mind he sees Julia's face smiling at him warmly, pride in her expression. He smiles back at her and the key in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> them living together... the dream....


	5. Fall Apart Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here things come to and end, and a beginning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god.....
> 
> so it took a pandemic for me to finish this...
> 
> honestly i couldn't decide how i wanted it to end but 2020 help make that decision for me cos i think we all need a nice fluffy ending during this trying time! Anyway, please enjoy, I AM sorry

They are flown from Kashmir to London, bruised and battered but alive.

Benji doesn't feel very alive. Really, he feels like some wiring in his brain has gotten loose. He's hanging from that rope still, teetering on the edge of completely falling apart. He keeps having to swallow around the overwhelming urge to burst into tears. With every swallow he feels the burn of the rope, hand switching between clutching the arm of his chair and prodding the delicate skin beneath his jaw.

Julia's face swims in and out of his thoughts, alive and so beautiful. Ethan's face exhausted and still in love. Guilt makes Benji sick to his stomach and he wraps an arm around his waist, pressing onto the knot that's sat in his gut since he saw them in the medical tent. He knew Ethan would always be in love with her, but to see it so clear and in front of him... His last thought, before the rope choked the consciousness from him, had been of never seeing Ethan again... 

They had looked at each other, and Benji had look at him. That is how it is. Benji is utterly in love with Ethan Hunt. 

He closes his eyes and leans against the window, hiding his trembling lip behind his other hand. He was almost strangled to death and he is in love with Ethan. The two thoughts mix and churn together, a hopeless ocean Benji can feel himself drowning in. He opens his eyes and looks around, making sure no one saw his momentary lapse- he can fall apart later. 

At the airport, Ethan leaves with Ilsa and the CIA operatives to hand Solomon's over to MI6. Ilsa pulls Benji into a fierce hug. Ethan stands to one side waiting patiently, a soft smile on his lips.

"Thank you, Benji," she murmurs and Benji nods even though he doesn't understand what she means. With one last squeeze she let's him go, with a light kiss on the cheek. 

"I'll see you guys at the hotel," Ethan says, half a question, half a reassurance. Benji nods and Luther murmurs yes tiredly.

Benji watches them go, walking side by side, and the jealousy twists ugly in his chest. The hand on his elbow makes him turn, and he avoids Luther's eye as they go to the SUV waiting for them by the curb. They've been set up in a posh hotel, courtesy of MI6 as a thank you from handing over Lane freely. Really, it's to keep them all in London while the CIA mess it tidied up back home- out of sight, out of mind as Sloane had put it. 

It's dark when they arrive there, Benji realises this mission is first time he's been back in London since their last encounter with Lane. He never wants to come back here again. Neither of them speak as they ride the elevator and trudge down the corridor to their respective rooms. Both of their thoughts are occupied, there's no need for small talk. Their rooms next to one and other, and Benji exchanges a nod with Luther before slipping inside. 

He lets the door fall closed behind him. Silence reins in the dimly lit room, the noisy city beyond the glass a world away. Benji drops his bag, the fatigue that has been threatening finally breaking the damn of his resolve. It's warm in the room, warmer than anywhere Benji has been in weeks on the road, but he's shivering. Out there, Ethan is with Ilsa, half healed and watching Lane lose his freedom once more; the final piece of closure. Benji feels useless, weak. He couldn't stop Lane, he couldn't do... he just couldn't.

His leaden feet drag him to the bathroom, a large indulgent space in black and copper decor. The glass cubicle shower is large enough for three with a big, expensive looking shower head and beckons Benji. He strips off his clothes while the water warms, a comforting thunder to expel the quiet. It's much too hot, dialed up to the highest setting, but the searing heat is exactly what Benji needs to scorch away the ache. He groans as the heat unwinds his taut muscles, letting his head loll back with a sigh. He wants- he needs the water to erase it all; the bruises on his neck and the feeling of rope wound around it. The feeling of Solomon's hands on him and the ghostly sensation of Semtex strapped to his chest.

The phantom pressure makes it hard to breathe again. Benji can't fight it any longer. His legs buckle and he slips to the floor, curling his knees against his chest and wrapping his arms around them. It's safe in here, warm and secure. His eyelids fall shut. Fueled by exhaustion and wrapped up in warmth he beings to drift, letting his thought slip away and nothing settle in its place. That's probably why he doesn't hear the door.

"Benji?"

It says something about just how out of it he is that he doesn't jump. He peers at the mirage of Ethan standing beyond the foggy glass. The man looks windswept, pink checked with a crease in his brow. Benji knows he should've reacted, jumped up or found his gun, but his limbs aren't under his control anymore. 

"What're you doing here?" He asks quietly. 

"Looking for you, I wanted to check..." Ethan's words trail off like he doesn't know what to say. Benji drops his head back against the wall, watching the rivulets of water trail down the tiles by his head. Embarrassment at his nakedness or shame for the state of himself is all lost in the haze of sadness. 

Then there is a noise and a sudden burst of chilly air. Benji blinks up through the water in disbelief as Ethan throws his jacket on the pile of clothes and kicks his boot off. Protests don't make it farther than his mind, all Benji can do is watch as Ethan steps into the cubicle and sits. The water patters noisily on Ethan's shirt as he presses against Benji's side from shoulder to thigh. His jeans are already turning dark, the black shirt clinging to his chest, his fringe plastered to his forehead. Benji gazes at him (but avoids his eyes) not quiet believing he's real. 

"I'm sorry, Benji."

The words lodge in Benji's chest and he closes his eyes, trying to fight the sob rising to his throat. "I can... I can still feel it."

"What?"

"The rope around my neck an-and the vest," he whispers, pressing his palm to his chest where his heart beat is jack-hammering. "Why can't they just- just go away? Why can't Lane leave you alone?" He knows he sounds petulant but he can't help it. He wants Ethan to be okay, he wants himself to be okay. Beside him Ethan shifts and a wet arm settles around Benji's shoulders, pulling him into his wet cotton covered chest. 

"It's the job," he answers quietly, words almost lost in the showers rumble. Benji wishes for a moment that Ethan could lie to him, but it's what he loves about him.

"I know, God, I know. Maybe it shouldn't be..." He digs his fingers into his own chest. "Maybe it shouldn't be my job. I don't think I'm cut out for this." It's a terrifying thing to admit, and shame washes over him. Benji keeps his eyes closed, too afraid to see the look on Ethan's face.

"There are people who belong in the field, and... there are people who don't, but Benji you're not one of them. We needed you out there, I need you out there. You're part of my team, my family." With his free hand, Ethan pries Benji's fingers off his chest and holds his hand tightly. "But you do what you need to. If that's staying out of the field then I support you but... I won't like it. I think you know where you belong, Benji."

Benji wants to cry but he's too tired, he wants to reply but his jaw stays wired shut. Instead he leans his head on Ethan's collarbone, soggy material rubbing against his cheek. What did he do to deserve Ethan in his life, to be part of his family? He feels Ethan shift again and lips press against his temple. Then Ethan lifts the hand he is holding and his lips brush each knuckle carefully. He turns Benji's palm delicately and runs the pads of Benji's fingers over his lips. Not quiet kissing, not quiet innocent. Benji closes his eyes again, drowning in the sensation and relief even if he doesn't understand it. Ethan settles the hand back against Benji's chest, but keeps his wrapped around it. It's grounding, stopping Benji from sinking any further into his thoughts.

He doesn't know how long they sit there, but eventually Ethan reaches up and the water shuts off. Without a word Ethan stands and helps Benji up who's legs have gone a little numb. Benji stands in the door, the cold seeping in along with a sense of embarrassment. He hates being so weak in front of Ethan, and so, so naked. Ethan doesn't seem to notice as he finds some towels and hands one to Benji. He quickly clutches it to his chest, trying to hide his reddened skin self-consciously.

Suddenly there's a wet noise and Benji jerks his head up to see Ethan tugging off his sodden shirt. It drops to the floor with a smack and when he reaches for his belt, Benji's pulse leaps.

"Oh, I'll um, I'll," he stammers and steps out of the bathroom without finishing his excuse.

He wraps the towel around his waist and goes to the window, trying to clear his chaotic thoughts, preoccupied with the sight of Ethan's damp skin. Why was his body reaching now after having sat next to him naked for Christ's sake. Ethan hadn't so much as hesitated to take his clothes, Benji can't tell if it's because they're just that familiar with each other or... or what?

Lights shift and ebb on the streets of London below. They always end up here.

The muted sound of footsteps approaching make Benji look up and see Ethan's reflection in the glass, barely dressed. The blush on his cheeks flares up and Benji hopes it comes across as a flush from the shower.

"Realised I don't have any other clothes," Ethan says dryly, indicating his clinging boxers that Benji refuses to look down at for the sake of his sanity.

"Right, sorry. You can, um, borrow something of mine." Benji tries to walk past Ethan, but he's stopped by a hand on his bicep.

"I mean it, you know," Ethan says quietly. "I need you." Butterflies erupt in Benji's stomach and he cautiously meets Ethan's eyes. They're shining brightly and so intent on him it's like looking into the sun.

"I need you too," he breaths, feeling daring. "More than you know." Ethan's eyes widen a fraction and he steps in front of Benji, hand slipping down to his wrist. Two fingers land on Benji's pulse, his last knuckle brushing the knot on Benji's towel.

"I think I know," Ethan whispers, suddenly even closer, knee bumping into Benji's.

"Ethan-" Benji doesn't get to finish, cut off by Ethan pressing his lips against his. It's soft yet urgent, Ethan breath noisy near Benji's ears. Benji clutches the hem of his towel with a white knuckled grip. Ethan's tongue brushes his lower lip making Benji whimper and gives into the sensation, opening his mouth wide for Ethan to possess. That's what he feels; utterly possessed by the kiss. Finally his mind catches up and he kisses back eagerly before Ethan tries to stop or change his mind or something. But Ethan's hands move down his wrist to Benji's fingers and he frees the towel from him. It hits the floor with a muffled noise and Benji gasps into Ethan's mouth at the swoop of cold air.

Hands settle on his bare hips and Benji realises his are tucked awkwardly against his chest. He turns his palms out and lays them flat against Ethan's chest, fingers light knowing there is bruised skin beneath. They kiss slowly, for a dizzying amount of time. Ethan changes the angle every so often like he's testing each one, trying to find which makes Benji shudder and groan.

Their lips part with an obscene wet noise and Benji tries to chase Ethan's. "Let me make you feel good," Ethan murmurs against the corner of his mouth. Benji could die right there- maybe he did die in the shack and this is heaven. Either way he doesn't much care. All he manages is a weak noise of ascent, squeezing Ethan's ribs. Then the contact is gone and Benji's eyes flutter open to watch in disbelief as Ethan descends to the carpet. He kneels between Benji's feet and looks up at him, the most perfect vision.

He clutches Benji's thighs and kisses the jut of his hipbone, then drags his lips across the pale canvas of his belly to Benji's painfully hard cock. Benji suppresses another whimper with a hand over his mouth as Ethan noses at the coarse hair there. He turns his gaze to the ceiling, unable to both watch and feel Ethan run his tongue from base to tip. It's a dizzying sensation, he can feel himself leaking and Ethan's tongue reappears gathering up the bead of moisture and making Benji choke.

The feeling is gone again and Benji feels his thighs being kissed. Ethan's voice reaches him: "Look at me." Benji blinks hard and peers at Ethan who looks back, pink cheeked and determined- of course he'd treat going down on someone as seriously as a mission. "Please watch."

Benji nods wordlessly and then Ethan takes him in his mouth all at once and he cries out. His hand flies out and grasps Ethan's hair hard, accompanied by another keening noise as he feels Ethan swallow around him. Ethan picks a slow, agonising rhythm, tongue sliding and working the head on every backstroke. All the while Ethan's hands knead Benji's trembling legs comfortingly.

The noise permeates the room, made louder by the otherwise silence. Benji tightens his grip in Ethan's hair and Ethan moans, leaning into the hold. Ethan opens his eyes and meets Benji's- like he's checking to make sure he's still watching- iris' consumed by blackness. Ethan pulls off briefly to runs his lips over the tip of him, coating them in the liquid so they're glossy with spit and precome.

"E-Ethan," Benji whines in disbelief. He looks back up at Benji through his damp lashes, tonguing the slick corner of his mouth. Then the hands on his thighs slide up to Benji's ass, nails digging into the soft flesh. They press suddenly shoving Benji deeper and Benji cries out, fingers twisting at Ethan's roots.

Benji watches as one of Ethan's hands fall away and shove into his own boxers. Ethan's eyelids flutter closed and Benji realises this is turning him on too, this is good for Ethan too. The wet noises of impatient lips and half cut of moans fill the room, suddenly more frantic than before. Benji can feel himself teetering on the edge, but can't find the words to warn Ethan off, doesn't want to. He strokes Ethan's hair before gripping it hard with both hands and rolling his hips.

Ethan stutters to a halt, back arching a little, his shiny mouth gasping around the head of Benji's cock. He's coming, Benji realises, coming for going down on him. That's enough for Benji and he's suddenly coming too, choking on a moan as he strips Ethan's cheek and neck.

He staggers back a step, letting go of Ethan's hair and it's like letting go of puppet strings because Ethan slumps down. His eyes closes, translucent liquid drooling down his cheekbone, coating his parted lips. For the second time that night Benji thinks how perfect he looks. He kneels down and kisses Ethan, who leans into him, mouth swollen and loose but just as hungry. He tastes like Benji and he wants more of it, moving to lick the pearly drops off salted sweaty skin. They end up toppling back onto the carpet, Benji still latched onto his jaw.

Ethan makes a noise then laughs a little hoarsely. His voice is raw too when he says, "that good then?" Benji leans up to look at Ethan, taking him in in all his glory. He never thought he'd get to see Ethan like this. Until this morning he never expected anything more than mutual respect and friendship. What is this exactly? Benji is afraid to ask, too swept up in the rush of it actually happening. He doesn't want to break the spell just yet.

"You're really something else," he whispers and Ethan's playful smile falls slightly in surprise, like he did not expect the sentiment. Benji inches forward so their noses bump. "Will you stay? Please."

Ethan cups his jaw, thumb stroking over his blush hot cheek. "Of course I'll stay." The words speak of something beyond this moment, like a promise to something unsaid but deeply felt. Ethan will stay. Benji nods and kisses him softly. They stand a little clumsily together, chuckling bashfully at how weak at the knees they both are.

Ethan cleans up in the bathroom while Benji finds clothes for them and they end up in bed, facing each other with barely a hair's breadth between them. Their legs tangle together and Ethan covers Benji's hands with his.

Sleeping is easier that night.

It's a surprise when he wakes up to chilly, early morning sunlight and recalls nothing of what he dreamed. No nightmares lingering in his peripheral. He cautiously rolls over and his breath catches in his throat at the sight of Ethan blinking drowsily at him. In the idleness of morning and the soft light he looks beautiful, edges softened by sleep. A smile content smile spreads over Ethan's face and Benji bashfully returns it.

"Hi," he croaks, shifting closer and pressing his toes into Ethan's calf. Ethan moves too until they're face to face, hands shyly in the no-man's land between them.

"Hey... You sleep okay?"

"Yes, better with you here. Thank you."

"It's my pleasure," Ethan murmurs, craning his neck to kiss Benji chastely. When he settles back again his smile is radiant and Benji can't stop the words from bubbling up.

"I love you," he breaths, watching Ethan's sleepy eyes widen. "I just... thought you ought to know." Without waiting Benji sits up, then realises he's naked under the sheets and casts about for any remnant of clothing nearby. Before he can escape the blanket Ethan sits up next to him and lays a hand over Benji's chest, right over his heart.

"Benji. I love you too." He says it so earnestly, so easily, all Benji can do for a moment is stare before uttering a breathless 'oh' and kissing him. Ethan laughs into it, muffled by Benji's eager lips, and lets himself be pushed down against the bed. Benji grabs the hem of the duvet and pulls it over their heads, sealing them into a warm white bubble. Ethan's fluffy hair flops over his forehead as he runs his hands down Benji's sides.

"You mean it?" Benji asks, stroking his thumb over Ethan's cheekbone. Ethan tilts his head and kisses his pad of his finger.

"How about I prove it to you?"

Benji ducks his head and laughs, "we'll have to leave this room eventually."

"We've got time," Ethan replies and kisses Benji like he knows it's true. Benji believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it... Happily ever after...
> 
> Have missed writing for these boys!

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to come, I've missed writing these two... 
> 
> on tumblr as mchozier


End file.
